ley has joined them," Lady St.
Maurice said. "Geoffrey, look at her now at the top of that hill. Does
she not remind you of him?"

He took up a pair of field glasses from the table and looked at her
steadily.

"Yes, she does," he admitted. "She is just like that poor fellow Marioni
sometimes. I never noticed it so clearly."

"She is horribly like him, and, Geoffrey, it is foolish of me, but
sometimes she looks at me with his eyes. It makes me shiver."

"Foolish little woman! Why, you are actually nursing your fears."

"They are scarcely fears; only a stupid sort of foreboding that comes on
sometimes, and which, afterward, I look upon as morbid. It is foolish of
me, I know, to connect them with Margharita, and yet I can't help it
sometimes. She is so like him."

"Why don't you ask her if she knows anything about him, or where he is?
Surely you might do that."

"I have made up my mind to more than once, but really, Geoffrey, absurd
though it may sound, I have never felt quite at ease in asking
Margharita personal questions. She so obviously insists upon our
relations remaining exactly those of employer and employed. It was not
at all what I intended; but what can I do? I wish to be a friend to her,
but her manner quite forbids it. She is far prouder than I am."

Lord St. Maurice shrugged his shoulders and kissed his wife's forehead.

"I shouldn't trouble about it, dear. They are a headstrong, intractable
race, those Marionis, and this girl takes after her mother. Treat her
kindly and she'll come round some day. Come and sit in the library if
you have nothing better to do for half an hour. I have some stupid
letters to write."

"I will come in one moment, Geoffrey," she answered. "I may as well
clear off some of my correspondence debts. There are some invitations to
answer, too."

Lord St. Maurice left the room and Adrienne remained by the window, her
eyes fixed upon the little group which had come to a standstill now on
the summit of the low line of cliffs. The field glasses were still on
the table by her side, and raising them to her eyes, she watched them
steadfastly for several minutes. When she put them down she was a shade
paler, and there were tears in her eyes.

"If I thought that it would wipe out the past," she murmured, "after all
it might be well. But how can it? He will never forgive! Never! never!"

She turned away, brushing the tears from her eyes, and went into her
husband's room smiling and